He'll Make it All Better
by IronicNarwhal
Summary: Title sucks.This is my first slash fic. Nick/Greg. YAY! Greg takes a tumble and gets hurt. But, Nick makes it all better. Really good, better than the summery, I promise. R&R, if you would! I'm rating it this because of mild lanuage & slash.


A/N: First, I'd like to say: THIS TITLE SUCKS! So, I've been saying it for so long it's not even funny, but, with me, all words and no action is a sin punishable by a week away from the computer! (I'd go crazy…Fine, crazi_er_….) So, here it is, my first slash fic! I hope you guys like it! I'll work hard! Things in italics are Greg's thoughts.

Disclaimer: okay, if I owned CSI, it would include the following: Swarrick, Ecklie being HIT BY A TRUCK, Grillows, and…the first recurring gay couple on a crime/drama. Oh, yes. This is going in ALL my disclaimers from now on…

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He'll Make it All Better

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Greg glared at the evil that was the grass stains in his best pair of jeans. But, that's what you get for chasing a suspect for one-quarter mile through a park. A very _hilly_ park to be exact. He shrugged and put them in the wash, confident that the spray-and-wash and Oxiclean would do its job. He then grabbed the basket he had unloaded from the dryer and began making his way out of the up-stairs laundry room. He was just at the top of the stairs when he heard the click of keys in the door and the creaking of the hinges as said door opened.

"Hey, Greg, I'm home," he could hear Nick say through a yawn.

Greg was just about to call back a, "Tired, are ya, cowboy?" when he tripped and began tumbling down the stairs. His reply soon turned into yells and cries if, "OW!"

"Greg!" Nick began running into the living room, just as the staircase deposited Greg on the carpet.

Greg moaned on the floor, clutching at his leg, which he could tell was bleeding very badly. He could also feel blood trickling down his head. He sniffled a bit, then froze. He was a man. Men did not cry. No, he would bear it without tears. But, it hurt _so_ badly! He really envied women, at times like these. He inhaled through his teeth. "Oh, God!"

"Greg," Nick kneeled beside him. "Sh…you okay?"

Nick brushed some of Greg's blond hair away from the scrape on his forehead, accidentally swiping it with his finger.

"Don't touch it, damnit!" Greg hissed, still trying to hold his tears back. He moaned again and sobbed lightly. _Stop it, Sanders! Be a god damned fucking man…_

"It's gonna be okay, G," Nick told him. "Sh…"

Nick gently picked him up, wrapping his arms around him and lifting him to his own body. Greg's legs instinctively went around his torso, but he winced as a jolt of pain went up his legs. For some reason, being in Nick's arms made him lose control. He suddenly began crying in pain. Big, fat tears that stained Nick's shirt as he carried him into the kitchen.

"It's gonna be okay, Greg," Nick told him, rubbing his back. He continued his muttering of "Sh…don't cry…you're gonna be okay…"

Nick set him on the kitchen counter, and dragged a chair over, sitting down in it to get eye-level with Greg's knee. Greg sat, legs hanging over the counter, still sniffling, eyes watery. He felt embarrassed. Why was he such a cry baby? What wrong with him?

"Oh, Greg, this is really deep," Nick said of the gash. "Gimme a sec, okay?"

Greg nodded, scared that if he tried to talk again, he would start crying again. _Suck it up, Sanders, you're just a stupid little cry baby…_

Nick vanished up the offending stairs, coming back three minutes later with the first-aid kit that usually sat in the medicine cabinet of the upstairs bathroom. He set it on the counter, opened it, and pulled out wound cleaner and cotton balls. Greg felt a strange urge to hiss at the vile objects.

Nick sat back down in his chair, sending Greg a comforting gaze.

"This might sting, okay?" Nick said, putting some of the wound cleaner on a cotton ball. _Think you can handle it, cry baby?_

Nick ripped open Greg's pant leg a little further than it already was, after all, he would probably be trashing them, what with the blood stains and the huge rip that was in them.

He touched it to Greg's knee, gently dabbing at it. Greg inhaled through his teeth, his eyes screwing up in pain. His reflexes made him kick, nearly hitting Nick in the stomach, had it not been for Nick's own well-train reflexes catching his leg by the ankle. He put his hand on the counter next Greg's, permitting him to grab it. "Squeeze as hard as you want, okay?"

Greg nodded, intertwining his fingers with Nick's. Nick again went to work on Greg's knee, Greg squeezing his hand, making sure that it didn't hurt.

"See? Not so hard," Nick said, smiling warmly at him. He rubbed his thumb into the back of Greg's hand. "I'm just glad you're okay. People die from falls like that."

Greg nodded, he knew this well. Fear was still coursing through his veins, playing a part in inducing his tears. He looked down, ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry," he whispered, as Nick went back to cleaning his knee for a band-aid.

"What ever for?" Nick asked him.

"For being such a cry baby," he said. "I'm just a stupid goddamned cry baby who forgot how to be a man eons ago."

Nick stared up at him. "You had the right to cry."

"Huh?"

"You had the right to cry," Nick told him. "You where hurt, really badly. It's not like you're not allowed to cry because you're a guy."

"I didn't just cry, I bawled," Greg said, shamefully.

"Yes," Nick admitted. "But, again, bawling was not out of the question…at all."

"Real- fssss!" Greg hissed as Nick hit a particularly tender spot on his knee. "Ouch, that hurts!"

"I know, I know," Nick said, squeezing back as Greg tried not to crush his hand. "Yes, really." He answered Greg's un-answered question. "But, I'm all done now. And you where a real good boy, Greggie." Nick teased.

Greg nodded, still feeling the pain in his knee loud and clear. Nick smiled at him, then leaned forward and kissed his knee. Greg smiled, for the first time since his tumble. His knee felt better than any medicated cream could make it feel with Nick's kiss planted on it. He swiped his bangs away from his eyes, but cried, "Ow!" when he touched the still very present scrape.

"Yeah, don't touch that," Nick said to him, reaching back into the first aid kit and pulling out a band-aid box. He put one of the extra-large square ones on Greg's knee.

"Okay, Greg. Lay down on the counter," Nick instructed, moving his chair to rest where Greg's head would come to rest. Greg did as instructed and stared into the contemplating brown eyes as Nick hovered over him. "Hmm…I think I'd better use peroxide (1) for this one…"

"You have peroxide in there!?" Greg cried. "That stuff doesn't sting, why'd you use that god-forsaken wound cleaner if you had peroxide?!"

"Because," Nick said. "That one was deep, and that stuff medicates and numbs as well as disinfects and cleans. Didn't want it to hurt too terribly bad."

"Oh," Greg said, perplexed. "Then, why does it sting so much at first?"

"That's the medicine doing it's job."

Greg nodded, watching as Nick's hand came towards his face with a cotton ball with the liquid on it, and then feeling the cold feel of it on his forehead. He watched Nick's expression change to concentration. His Nick-watching almost made him forget about the pain.

"There you go, Greggo," Nick said, pulling the cotton ball away and chucking it in the garbage bin. Greg stared at him expectantly.

"What?" Nick asked, grinning.

"Aren't you gonna kiss it?"

Nick chuckled at him. But, swooped down and kissed his forehead all the same.

"And, you know, I've got a real little cut on my lip, but it still hurts."

Nick smiled at him. "You're impossible." Nick leaned on the counter and pressed his lips gently to the still laying down Greg.

"Okay, it's better," Greg mumbled into Nick's lips. "But, you can keep on doing that, if you would please…I really like it…"

Nick set a hand on Greg's side, right above his hip. He hissed and recoiled in pain. "Aaa!"

"Sorry," Nick frantically apologized. He lifted up Greg's black tee-shirt and glared at the thing that was so paining his boyfriend. "Oh, G, you gotta bad one here, too."

Greg sighed. "Bringing out the evil, vile stuff again?"

"It's a scrape, not as bad as the other one. There's not a whole lot of blood, either. I think you'll get by with some disinfecting cream, with this one."

Nick went back to his first-aid kit, pulling out a tube of cream and coming back over. He smiled at Greg as he pull some in his hands, rubbing them together, trying to make it warmer for Greg. He then gently touched the cream to Greg's hip. Greg jumped a little, though, not out of pain. It was just cold. But, as Nick rubbed it in, it felt comforting and relaxing, for his scrape and for him. He set his head back on the counter and breathed, "I love you…"

Nick's head snapped up.

Greg's eye widened. "I mean, that is to say…I'm terribly sorry…I'll, uhm, er…sorry…"

Nick stared at Greg. Greg sat up and stared at the brunet before him. "Nick, say some thing, please!"

Nick broke out in an idiotic grin. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you that."

"Oh, I think I have an idea."

Nick smiled and stepped forward. He wrapped his arms around Greg, pulling him closer to him. Greg loosely straddled him, still allowing his legs to hang, instead of tightening around Nick. He smiled at Nick, right before he began viciously attacking Nick's lips with his own.

Almost immediately, Nick allowed him entrance and he took full advantage. He was momentarily disappointed when Nick disconnected from him, but soon his eyes widened in delight as he felt his lips (and teeth, for the matter) on the side of his neck. He gasped in pleasure when Nick started inching his hands up the back of his shirt, his warm hands sending wonderful sensations through his body. At this point, Greg wrapped his legs around the brunette, begging him to take his to some sort of horizontal surface, other than the counter top he was sitting on.

Nick did this, picking him up while Greg grabbed at his shirt, trying desperately to yank it off him. They came to the couch, onto which they collapsed. Greg had succeeded in getting Nick's shirt off, having removed his somewhere en route to the living room. He reached down, yanking at Nick's pants zipper.

"Off with 'em, now," Greg growled. "I mean now, Nick Stokes."

Nick gladly obliged. "You're turn."

Greg did this.

And, Greg, feeling no pain any more, thought, _He'll make all better…and he did…_

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A/N: So, I hope that I didn't disgrace the name of slash. This is my first. I'm scared about reviews. All I can envision is every one saying, 'WTF? You suck! You're terrible! There's something wrong with you!" or, "Hmm…a bit too much."

So, I hope you liked it.

-Lynn


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